Shiloh turned the camera back to himself. Kit wished he hadn’t. Thinking was easier without that scared, young face staring at him.
“I don’t believe you’re alone,” Kit said, shifting in place. His heart rate spiked when something brushed his shoulder. Just a sweatshirt sleeve. Fuck.
The screen shook as Shiloh looked around, and his voice lowered. “Archie is somewhere in the park. He says he’ll kill me if you don’t meet me here in an hour.”
That sounded more like it.
“You have to come alone.” Shiloh’s next words were thin, fragile. “Please. I don’t know what to do.”
That broken ‘please’ hardened Kit’s nerves. He was never very good at taking care of himself. But he could help Shiloh.
Like he couldn’t help the others.
“It’s going to be okay, Shiloh,” Kit said, trying to channel Darius’s quiet reassurance. “Is anyone there besides Archie?”
Shiloh shook his head, then responded out loud, “No. The—the other guy is still at the house.”
Easiest question first. “Where is the house? How far away is it?”
“I don’t know. Archie blindfolded me for the drive. I don’t even know if I was in a house. There was just this bare room…” Shiloh glanced around furtively. Didn’t seem to spot anyone. “It was maybe half an hour? Maybe an hour? I’m not sure. I’m sorry.”
That could be the San Corvo storefront or the Vilton house. Probably not the cabin.
Kit braced himself for the next question. “Is the other guy’s name Laird Renaker?”
“I don’t know his name.” Shiloh shuddered. “He said to call him Dad.”
Kit’s stomach turned. “Stay where you are. I’m coming. Listen to me.” Kit waited for Shiloh to face the camera properly. His eyes were blue. Kit remembered that from the aunt’s post. Right now, it was too dark to tell. “You’re going to be okay.”
Still nauseous, Kit hung up. His left hand cramped, and sweat smeared the front camera lens.
Icy clarity drove Kit to his feet. Enough planning. Kit needed to act.
This was a trap, of course. Kit shoved shoes on anyway, then grabbed a dark canvas jacket. All his sensible intentions went out the window the moment he saw Shiloh’s face.
Dad probably predicted that.
No. Laird. He didn’t deserve to be called Dad by anyone, not even in Kit’s thoughts.
Kit took inventory. Gun. Bullets. He debated taking or leaving his phone. James could track him with it, which on the one hand could interrupt him too early. On the other hand, Kit wanted to be followed eventually.
Ugh. Darius was tracking the gun anyway. They were both busy. Kit had to bet they wouldn’t notice fast enough to stop him.
Now, how to sneak out without Bishop seeing…
The house was too big for one person to see every entrance. Kit just had to disable the alarm on the back staircase, then disable the alarm to the side porch. Then he was out in the darkness and insect chirps.
The perfect, open-house-ready landscaping loomed ominously. Kit crept from shadow to shadow, skin crawling.
Escaping was easier when he didn’t have to open the garage. Plus, most of James’s security personnel were on their way to the Vilton house. One more alarm system at the side gate.
Kit’s gun slipped naturally into his palm, and his full attention hooked into the dark, tree-lined streets. Archie Calvin could be lurking anywhere. It was easier to focus on every suspicious shadow, every dubious parked car, than to consider what might happen at the end of this plan.
Probably wouldn’t follow Kit’s expectations. But hopefully it wouldn’t follow Laird Renaker’s, either.
Nobody jumped out on Kit’s path to the park. The car waited under a streetlight, just like the video call showed. Next to it waited a lonely shadow, his pale face peering around like a searchlight.
Kit halted twenty feet away, out of the streetlight’s glow. Anyone looking at him would be disadvantaged by the contrast.
